Parting
by partsguy
Summary: Following "Stranger" Joan Thursday nee Prewitt and Morse are having dinner. Twelve years have passed since season 5. What happened in the interval is apparent, but the why is not.


Parting

"Sir"

"Uh, oh, what?"

"Will there be anything more for you this evening?"

It took Morse a moment to realize what the waiter was asking him. Unsure of his answer he glanced at the beautiful woman sitting across from him. With a slight shake of the head and a hint of a smile she answered his unspoken question "no, I'm fine if you are. It's getting late and I'm sure they want to go."

Turning back to the waiter Morse told him "just the check please".

Morse had been dumbfounded when Strange had gotten up, excused himself and walked away from the table he had just arrived at. But that been nothing like the shock when he realized the reason for his leaving.

There walking towards him, only a few meters away, was a woman he hadn't seen in over a decade. A woman that had once meant the world to him. A woman who the last time he had seen her had tears streaming down her beautiful face.

As soon as he regained his composure he hurriedly searched his memory, trying to remember the appropriate way to greet her. Simultaneously he tried to get a glimpse of her hand, looking for a wedding band, or evidence there had been one.

Unsuccessful on both counts he could only stammer, in a tone that sounded weak and unsure even to him. "Hello". Then even more lamely "what a surprise."

She mercifully held out her hand, allowing him to see the wedding band, to touch his hand. "It's been a long time, Endeavour".

Morse remembered his manners in time to pull Joan's chair away and seat her across from him at the table. Fortunately one of the waiters chose this time to bring the bottle of wine that he had ordered. He offered it to Morse for his approval, which he immediately gave. Although now Morse would have agreed to anything which had alcohol in it.

For a few moments they looked across the table at each other while the waiter poured them each a glass of wine. Before he could withdraw, Morse stopped him "leave a menu then give us a few minutes, will you?" Quickly glancing from one to the other the waiter gave a slight bow and said "Of course, Sir, just signal when you are ready".

"Well, I must admit I don't know what to say. But first I'm embarrassed to have to ask this, but what should I call you?" "I see that Miss Thursday is no longer appropriate, and I never was fond of using your Christian name."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you didn't trouble yourself with keeping up over the years. That never was your strong suit was it? But to answer your question, its Mrs. Prewitt." Seeing the look that passed across Morse's face she quickly followed up with "But I would still prefer Joan".

"Joan, it is then." "I don't quite know what to say. Other than its been a long time."

Joan looked at him closely, comparing him to the last time they had been together. The years hadn't been all that kind to him. He still was an attractive man, for his age of course, but aged beyond his years. Perhaps that was genetic, but if the stories she had heard were true, perhaps it was too much time spent staring at the bottom of a glass.

For his part Morse felt that the years had been more than kind to her. Oh there were lines around the eyes, and maybe the hair wasn't quite as dark as it had once been. Although he hadn't really gotten a good look she still appeared to be trim, with maybe a hint of a little extra weight in the usual places. But she still seemed to have some life about her. Almost as he had pictured her in his thoughts from time to time.

Their old friend, awkwardness, tried to join the table, but times have changed. They are both a little wiser now, a little less willing to let it have its head.

"Well, I'm sorry, my manners. I assumed, and I shouldn't have." I didn't know what Strange was playing at when he asked, ordered is a better word, me to be here tonight." "Have you eaten?" "Would you like to join me for dinner?"

The woman at the table, and Morse had to admit that she was in every respect a woman now, dipped her head in a cute response to the question. "I'd be delighted, but I can't stay too long this evening, I have to get back home…. The sitter has to go to school tomorrow." Morse couldn't help but acknowledge the obvious clue to her status that she had dropped.

"I see, then perhaps we should get started then" They each raised their glasses and with a satisfied look on their faces they began to study the menus in front of them. Each brazenly oblivious to the others occasional glances.

Morse raised his hand and beckoned to a passing waiter. The young man arrived and dutifully took his position between them, pen poised above his pad. Joan placed her order, a small filet and a salad. Something which screamed to her partner that she was concerned with staying fit. For his part Morse chose spaghetti with seafood, dismissing the waiter's question of whether he wanted a salad with a huff. Hardly had the waiter walked away then he regretted his choice.

"Uh. I must seem like a pig. That's much more than I need". Joan was obviously enjoying his discomfort, resting her chin in her palm, the slightest of grins on her face. Finally he gave up. "I just wanted something that wasn't complicated."

"Morse, don't. I'm glad to see that you're eating. let's just enjoy our dinner. I didn't want tonight to be complicated either."

Before they could go any further the food began to arrive, Morse refilled their glasses and they began to eat.

For the next few minutes they could concentrate on the meal and not have to bother with conversation. But that could only last so long.

All too soon the meal was finished, the table cleared, and the wine bottle was empty. Joan asked Morse to order coffee for them both.

As they waited for the coffee Morse felt compelled to tell her, "Well, I must say you look lovely. The years have been kind, what are you doing now?"

"Morse lets be adults. You know I've always come to you at difficult times. Something you never reciprocated."

"I wanted to see you again before I go, and Jim was good enough to set it up. He's been a good friend over the years.'

"He's a good man, has -"

"Morse, my husband has taken a job at his firms New York office." "The kids and I will be moving as soon as everything can be arranged and I can sell the house."

She could see the expression drain from his face, but the movement around his eyes told her he was processing what she had said.

But now wasn't the time to be kind. Now was the time for telling the truth if it was ever to be told.

"Did you ever know how much I loved you?" "No, I don't suppose you did." "Or, maybe it wasn't something you could accept".

"I….I don't know what… but why?" "You can't really be serious!"

She gave a little laugh. "Oh, come on, Morse, think back, what will it hurt." "In the beginning I found you a little, oh, weird I guess, but that changed. You were always so sweet. Maybe a little dense, but nice." Certainly by the time of the bank robbery I cared for you a lot, but that robbery and how you looked out for me. It made me face the fact that I was in love with you. Then that morning when I left - it broke my heart to walk away from you. But I had no other choice you see. I couldn't turn around even though I wanted to."

"But why couldn't you? Why didn't you?"

She waited, hoping he would interject something, but all he could add was "You say that, but you didn't have to stay. I would have, your folks would have, come and brought you home."

"But why did I stay and do what I did with Ray, you mean? How was I going to survive in Leamington? No job, no money, and nothing but pride to eat."

Morse had no answer to that. All he could do was dip his spoon into his coffee and lazily stir it around.

She reached across the table and gently touched his hand. A touch that to him seemed as gentle as a butterfly. He looked up, and across the table at her face. "I didn't mean to." About that time he noticed a slight prickly feeling behind his eyes. He'd have to watch that, it wouldn't do. Wouldn't do at all.

"It's ok, Morse. Really. I didn't come here for an inquisition."

"I'm glad. It's great to see you. I've been most remiss, inexcusable really. Yet, then why did you come here? After all this time? After what happened….eh, after what I did?"

"I guess I just wanted to get some things off my chest is all."

"Well I don't suppose you know when you will be eh, moving?"

"No, the brokers say that the housing market is pretty good, but there will be a lot of things. Oh, I don't know how long it's probably still a month or more, but I can't be sure."

Morse could only say, "Oh, right. I see, these things are always a little uncertain."

They both lapsed into silence, reflecting on what to say, each hoping the other would give them an opening. But it wasn't to be.

"Sir"

"Uh, oh, what?"

"Will there be anything else for you this evening?"

Morse looked at her, as if asking her to make the decision.

"No, I don't think so. I can't stay out too long the sitter will be worried."

"Right then, just the check please."

The waiter brought the bill which Morse settled, reluctantly it seemed to her. As if he was in no hurry to end the evening. After which he returned to the table and started to sit again.

"I must go, I didn't think I would be out this long, the sitter will be asking for a rather large tip as it is".

"I see, well if you must be going. It seems as if you just got here." He went around and helped her with her chair. Together they walked in silence towards the exit.

Stepping outside, she shivered as the cool of the evening touched her bare shoulders. She thought to herself that she should have worn a sweater.

"Um, I'm sorry what did you say?"

"I was asking where your car was."

"Oh." "It's over there, that white Vauxhall."

"I see. I will walk over with you"

As they walked over she pulled the remote from her purse, clicked it to unlock the doors. When they reached it Morse grabbed the driver's door handle and opened it for her.

They stood there for just a moment, neither one sure of what to say. Finally she had had enough, time to end it. It had been foolish anyway.

"Well, good night, Morse. Thank you for the dinner, I had a lovely time".

Morse gave her a tight smile, as she gracefully sat down behind the wheel. As she started the engine she gave him a last look and a smile.

Before he closed the door, he had to ask her "a month you said?"

"Yes, I think so." Nothing more was to be said other than "Goodnight"

"Goodnight". He watched her pull away from him, stop briefly at the curb before merging into traffic.

He kicked a pebble that has at his feet and walked back towards the Jag.

Addendum

Superintendent Strange walked around his desk, not even bothering to look back as he barked. "Morse, no need to take a seat, this won't take but a moment."

Superintendent Strange had met Morse in the hall a few minutes before and unceremoniously ordered him to join him in his office. After Strange had lowered his enormous bulk into his chair he placed both hands, palms down on his desk. Looking down at his old friend and boss, Morse tried to remember what it could be that his boss was on about. Although in truth Strange could be brusque in the best of times.

"Listen Morse, I have better things to do than go around picking up after you, eh."

"Picking up after me?"

"Without a question, picking up after you. "Haven't you misplaced some important paperwork recently?"

"Important paperwork?" "I thought you were past it with that nonsense about that restaurant, now I'm more convinced than before."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about Morse!" "If I hadn't known you all of these years I'd call it negligence. Willful Negligence."

Morse knew that those words were not casually used, not even it jests. "Sir, what are you talking about?"

Strange opened his desk drawer, removed a yellow sticky note, held it in his beefy hand for a moment as he took a quick glance at it. Then looking Morse in the eye he told him "you forgot this at the restaurant the other night" before laying it on the desk midway between them.

Morse glanced down at the paper, recognizing the seven numbers for what they were immediately. He paused, looked at his old friend, nodded, picked up the paper and said, "it seems I did." Turning on his heel he walked back towards his own office.


End file.
